


blood red breeze

by scoups_ahoy



Series: fractured moonlight [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood, Jun-centric, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Pirates, Prequel, Revenge, but dont worry they're all ocs, like a lot of it lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/scoups_ahoy
Summary: A few quiet moments pass in which Yanan just looks at Junhui, searching his face. It’s a gaze he’s seen countless times, shown to him in times when Yanan thinks he’s being too confident for his own good. It’s a gaze tinged with fondness, and Junhui likes it. “Do you actually think it’ll work? This coup of yours?”Junhui glances around the tavern instead of responding, at first. The men and women in the room meet his eyes and then duck away respectively, throwing themselves back into their conversations. It sends a shiver through his body that he can’t help. The pirates in this port already fear him; what are a few tens of thousands more? Biting his lip he meets Yanan’s gaze once more. “I’m leaving for Peking tomorrow; I imagine by the time I arrive, they’ll have Litao in chains. And then, once I see his lifeless eyes, I’ll head for Ningpo. Claim my rightful place on that throne.”• ☾ •In 1848, Wen Junhui becomes the Pirate Lord of the East Seas.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Yan An
Series: fractured moonlight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064417
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	blood red breeze

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the second (chronologically, the first but i posted it second lol) "fractured moonlight" prequel fic! this one details some of pirate lord jun's backstory and rise to power.
> 
> tw: violence, death, blood - all brief and not very graphic. rated m just to be safe.

**blood red breeze.**

When Junhui walks into the Shenzhen royal outpost, he’s greeted by the Daoguang Emperor. Gaunt, sharp features etched from jade that glitters in the sunlight are drawn into a rather vainglorious smirk topped with beady eyes that seem to peer into Junhui’s soul.

A rather ugly little thing.

It’s also one of many statuettes - and baubles, and paintings on hanging scrolls - of the Emperor stashed in this small room, and Junhui takes each of them in with a raised brow. Whoever decorated ought to be demoted; this much green jade and this many smug faces in one hot, already cramped room was not an aesthetic or intelligent decision. Though, he thinks as he reaches out for one of the figurines carved from pale white jade, they could catch a few wén, doubtless. If he found the right people willing to pay, that is.

“Can I help you?”

Pulled from his reverie, Junhui looks up to find a man dressed in royal hanfu watching him from an open doorway. His eyes are as sharp as his voice, darting between Junhui and the statuette. It brings a smirk to Junhui’s lips, a smirk that rivals the Emperor’s, and he places the figurine back on the shelf he took it from. “You can, actually.”

The moment he turns, the man’s eyes flick to Junhui’s forehead. His own is shaved bald, like every other good Qing male, the rest of his black hair pulled back and falling down his spine in a usual queue. But Junhui is not a good Qing male; he wears his hair down, unshaved.

His smirk widens.

“I’m here,” he says in the man’s defiance-induced silence, “because I need to speak with someone who can deliver a message to… those in charge.”

The man huffs quietly, eyes still raking over Junhui’s appearance. “I see. Regarding?”

“Wen Litao,” he says and the man’s face rather humorously pales, “the Pirate Lord of the East Seas. I know where he is and I am willing to divulge said information, for a price.”

“And how do I know said information is to be trusted?”

“Because…” He glances out the window, past the sunlight pouring through, out to the sea. From here, atop a small hill, the ocean glitters a bright, blinding blue. “I’m his brother. His half-brother.”

He remembers the day he met Litao just as clearly as if it’d happened yesterday.

It was a clear, warm morning that felt utterly wrong emerging from the week of storms that had followed his mother’s death. Unwelcome and unwanted it showed its face - much like Litao - and Junhui had been forced to simply accept it. At fifteen, practically orphaned, he’d had no choice.

Staring into his father’s unfamiliar eyes, his cold words ringing through his head, he’d had no choice either.

 _“You can either join me and my crews,”_ Wen Zhitao had said, and the dragon tail that curled around his neck in thick black ink moved with the lump in his throat, _“or stay here, alone.”_

Litao had snorted and his own dragon tattoo bobbed with the motion. It looked so out of place on a skinny boy like him, barely older than Junhui. But he was a pirate at seventeen, a pirate just like their father, and the tattoo signified it, so it did for the rest of the men that sailed under Wen Zhitao's colors. Litao knew their father, too, in a way Junhui did not; he’d grown with him, instead of being abandoned here in Shenzhen with his mother and her parents. He was favored and he knew it. Junhui knew it too. It was in Litao’s sun-kissed skin, the snobbish curl of his lips, the tattoo that marred his chest and neck. It was in the way Junhui had never met Wen Zhitao until then; had only heard of him through his mother’s stories and mortal legends passed around the port.

It was in the way Junhui hated him then, a man - a boy - he did not know. But he detested him for the same reason he envied him.

 _“Why give him the choice?”_ Litao had spat in response to their father as if Junhui was an inanimate object incapable of using the ears tacked onto his body. _“We don’t need him.”_

He heard the words unspoken, the words translated by the hard look in Litao’s eyes: _I’m the only son you need._ And it was at that moment he vowed to kill Wen Litao one day, take his place at their father’s side. A place someone like Litao did not deserve.

If only to prove to them both that he did not need them, the way they did not need him in return.

 _“I’ll go,”_ Junhui said, looking his brother right in his beady little eyes, already standing taller than him - and he felt taller. Better. _“There’s nothing for me here.”_

Three years later, Wen Zhitao was dead. Killed in an ambush set up by westerners.

And so Litao took his place as pirate lord, while Junhui watched from Shenzhen and bided his time.

It came rather quickly.

Within months after assuming their father's throne, Litao brought a storm of corruption upon the Black Flag Fleet. He dealt too often with the government, selling out rival captains instead of facing them in battle. He strayed from the code their father put in place, doing as he pleased yet punishing those who followed in his stead.

He became the very oppression piracy sought to upend; the very oppression that murdered their father.

Those brave enough called out for someone to put an end to him, a call that did not go unanswered.

Days after seeing the man at the outpost, he meets with royal officials straight from Peking. They give his queue-less hair the same distasteful stare but generally, they’re quiet. They _listen._ Most importantly, they agree to his terms: he’ll give Litao up if they allow him to break the news to Litao’s commanders. That, and he wants to be there when they sever his head from his body.

(It’s a bargain Junhui already plans on breaking; he’ll do more than just inform the commanders. But the crown doesn’t have to know that. He’s come this far and he won’t let any government stand in his way.)

It’s not the first time the Qing have made deals with pirates but if Junhui has his way it’ll be the last. Of course, the irony is not lost on him. But he just wants Litao to know who it is that betrayed him.

Yanan arrives in Shenzhen the following day, on an invitation that was sent before Junhui even walked into the outpost. But he’d been confident, of course he had; the Emperor would do anything to get rid of a scourge to trade and morality like Wen Litao. And Yanan only confirms this.

He barely sits down before speaking, several pairs of eyes, wary and weak, finding the edges of the dragon tattoo peeking through his neckline, and lowers his voice even in a pirates’ tavern such as this. “The night before I left Ningpo, we heard the Daoguang was sending men after him.”

Junhui smirks into his baijiu before taking a sip. The alcohol, tinged with the sweet taste of victory, warms his throat and he looks up at Yanan, meeting his eyes in the dim light. Around them, chatter ensues unabated, and it will continue to do so if these people know what’s good for them. If they recognize Yanan’s tattoo the way they should. “Of course he is; Litao is a thorn of the worst sort in his side, just like fùqīn was.”

“Just like you will be,” Yanan says, rather grimly, into his baijiu.

He’s got his hair down too, the front part finally beginning to disappear into the rest of it (convincing him to abandon the queue had been a feat in and of itself but teenaged Junhui had persevered), and it suits his handsome face well. Of course, he’s yet to compliment him since Yanan burst through the tavern doors ready and willing to talk business - but the time will come.

The right time _always_ comes, for everything.

The thought brings a smile to his lips and he leans back in his chair. The wood creaks. Or perhaps that’s Yanan sighing into his cup. “Don’t tell me you’re tired of piracy already, hmm? You’re not even a captain yet.”

His promise to Yanan, uttered when they were both too young to truly grasp its weight, rings through Junhui’s head and he wonders if Yanan remembers it too. Judging by the look on his face, the way he grips the cup tighter, he does. “I suppose you’ll have the power to make me one when you take over. The only problem…”

“Huang won’t be difficult to get rid of,” Junhui says with a dismissive wave of his hand; Yanan’s eyes follow it. “Neither will the rest of the commanders. And the other crews will fall into place - “

“Because they all want Litao and his commanders gone,” Yanan confirms, as if they haven’t discussed this a million times before. As if he hasn’t been acting as a spy for Junhui for years, slowly picking at the threads of dissonance and dissent that came with his brother’s rule.

A few quiet moments pass in which Yanan just looks at Junhui, searching his face. It’s a gaze he’s seen countless times, shown to him in times when Yanan thinks he’s being too confident for his own good. It’s a gaze tinged with fondness, and Junhui likes it. “Do you actually think it’ll work? This coup of yours?”

Junhui glances around the tavern instead of responding, at first. The men and women in the room meet his eyes and then duck away respectively, throwing themselves back into their conversations. It sends a shiver through his body that he can’t help. The pirates in this port already fear him; what are a few tens of thousands more? Biting his lip he meets Yanan’s gaze once more. “I’m leaving for Peking tomorrow; I imagine by the time I arrive, they’ll have Litao in chains. And then, once I see his lifeless eyes, I’ll head for Ningpo. Claim my rightful place on that throne.”

It’s answer enough for Yanan; he merely chuckles in that affectionate way he has when he concedes to Junhui and what he wants. Junhui leans forward and swallows it with a kiss that leaves Yanan smirking.

Junhui has hated water for as long as he can remember.

Screaming and crying or otherwise throwing a fit past the acceptable age every time he had to take a bath. Watching from a distance as family or friends played along the pale sands of Shenzhen’s shoreline, while he resisted the urge to call them back from what would be a rather intense, unforgiving death if they drowned. Spending rainy days burrowed under blankets, clutching his cat, thinking of dry, warmer times.

(It kept him resigned to Shenzhen after agreeing to join his father’s crew, much to Litao’s joy. But it ended up in Junhui’s favor after all, for watching over his father’s… _business_ in Shenzhen, he learned much.)

And now he’s to become a pirate lord. Spend the rest of his days on the sea, the way his father and brother did.

The war junk rocks slowly, steadily (somewhere around Haizhou Bay it stops making him sick to the point of disability, thankfully) and Junhui clutches onto the railing keeping him from plunging into the Yellow Sea headfirst, knuckles white in his grip. Traveling this way had been Yanan’s idea, something about “you’ll have to get used to it, won’t you?” whispered against his sweaty temple in that post-sex glow, and of course Junhui had agreed. At that moment he would’ve said anything to get Yanan to shut up and let him sleep. But now he’s regretting it. Greatly.

As if reading his mind, a slender hand slides over one of his own, offering comfort in the way its fingers stroke along his knuckles. Junhui relaxes beneath the touch and turns his head to meet Yanan’s gaze. In the sunlight, his brown eyes are tinged with the softest of oranges. Like a sunset.

“Are you ready for this?” he murmurs softly, almost lost to the waves.

They are alone on this vessel; he could speak louder if he so wished. But whispers are better suited for secrets, and indeed, secrets they hold. Secrets only the ocean will know.

They’ll reach Peking by nightfall.

In the morning, Junhui will watch his brother die.

By week’s end, they’ll be in Ningpo and Junhui will finally have what he’s been wanting for years.

He leans his forehead against Yanan’s and closes his eyes. Breathes in his lover’s familiarity. The way it grounds him on seas so rocky. “I am, no doubt of it.”

Yanan’s kiss is feather-light, but comforting all the same.

There’s a crowd of hundreds, maybe thousands, that gather to watch Wen Litao die. They pack into the Caishikou grounds this warm, sunny morning with animated chatter that echoes off the buildings around them, eyes never leaving the road down which Litao will appear. They’re ravenous, the lot of them; making a man’s execution a part of their day. For some, the highlight.

Junhui is one of them.

He holds tightly to Yanan’s hand as they duck through the mob of people, finding a spot near the edge - and the voices around them, behind them, reach a fever pitch. They drown out the sounds of the jail cart making its way down the road, a cart that holds a familiar figure.

Triumph sweeps through Junhui’s body in a shiver as he meets Litao’s empty gaze from behind the bars keeping him. Unshaven hair hangs limp and dirty around his bruised face, crusted blood gathered in the divots of his body. He’s huddled, small and pathetic, against the words of vitriol hurled at him from the spectators, and without his sword, without his pirates, without his _father,_ he is nothing but a man.

How quickly Wen Zhitao’s favorite son has been reduced to _this._

How simple it was for Junhui to destroy him.

When their eyes meet Litao’s widen and he shouts something Junhui can’t make out over the waves of shouts and curses around them. But even if he could hear it, he wouldn’t heed it; he stopped listening to Litao years ago, when all that came off his tongue was abuse.

Nothing has changed, it seems.

As he shouts, as he rails, he’s led to the center of the square, just a mere few yards from Junhui -

And decapitated without preamble.

It’s the perfect death for someone like him, who’d talk until he was blue in the face just to hear the sound of his own voice.

Now, Wen Litao is silenced, his blood seeping into Peking’s stones. It carries through the breeze.

When they touch down in Ningpo, Yanan leads him through the port, its crowded, dirty streets. For the most part, they are ignored; it seems Ningpo does not know of Junhui yet. But they will.

The commanders are gathered in Litao’s safehouse, the one that belonged to Zhitao first; when Junhui and Yanan enter all speaking ceases. They regard the newcomers with sharp gazes that could cut if Junhui let them. But he doesn’t; he merely turns his attention to the chair in which Litao would sit. It’s empty now, at the head of the table, and he approaches it with purposeful steps that fill the silence.

“My brother is dead,” he says, as the commanders exchange glances - while their first mates meet Junhui’s gaze. Yifan, Qian, Jeonghan, Yuta, Zhan, Junmyeon, Jieqiong. Each one of them is young and loyal to Junhui. Each one of them has been waiting for this moment as they watched Litao and his commanders slowly, unknowingly whittle away at Zhitao’s legacy in their own foolishness, their own corruption. These young friends are the threads of dissonance and dissent Yanan found. He looks between them all for a moment before unsheathing his sword. It rings throughout the ensuing silence, a victorious sound. “As are all of you.”

Within moments, the table is slick and red with blood.

Within moments, everything that was his father’s is now his. Everything Litao tried to keep from him.

He sits down in the chair and looks at the limp, lifeless bodies resting on the wood. He looks at the men and women before him, as loyal as loyal comes. Then, finally, he looks at Yanan standing at his side and the love in his bright brown eyes. They move close, as if drawn to each other, the metallic scent of blood strong in Junhui's nose.

“What are you going to do now, love?” Yanan whispers as a kiss against his lips.

Junhui pulls back with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> ofc everything will be expanded on in the main fic coming soon! <3
> 
> thank you for reading, and let me know what you thought!!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/scoups__ahoy) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/scoups__ahoy)


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